Saturday, February 9, 2013

Chronically Exhausted

"To sleep, perchance, to dream."

Listen, at this stage I'd take sleep ... forget about sweet dreams. Sleep, people. The best sleep I've gotten in YEARS was during my last colonoscopy and more recently when I had the flu (go body!!!) So I logged some hours, but was it restorative? Um, no.

It seems to me I've tried everything under the sun, moon, and alllll the stars I watch travel across the sky at night. Natural things as well unnatural things, AKA Big Pharma. My sleep hygiene is second to none (except for the cat on the bed at all times.) Eventually I DO sleep, but at what level and at what bodily price? All I can say for certain is I KNOW why sleep deprivation is a well utilized torture technique ... Geneva Convention approved or not. Promise me restorative sleep so my body can heal and I'd give up a lot. Nothing Homeland Security has to worry about (I don't even want to KNOW their stuff) or even personal confidences, but wanna know something about ME? I promise I'll give it up if you'll ONLY provide me with natural deep restorative sleep for a few years. Really. It's just that easy.

So I DID log a total of six hours last night only waking up and re-dosing once. It was a good night. But the DREAMS. I have a new grandson. Did I do some California dreaming about that little bundle of goodness? No. Did I dream about the (can't mention the item) I'm knitting for him? No. How about that great dinner with #3 and his gf? Nope. My much anticipated visit to either a local nutritionist or a new specialist? NOPE. I KNOW. Shoes. I LOVE shoes. Nope.

I dreamed about a dear friend being draped for her appropriate "best colors" in a state she doesn't live in by a system she doesn't care for. Really. This, of course, was HUGELY stressful to my unconscious mind as across the board and on ALL levels I want people to be comfortable. Even in their distress.

No, I'm not going to disclose my own level of vanity when it comes to clothing/style/and color at this point in our relationship, but suffice it to say, my subconscious felt her pain.

I feel like Goldie Hawn in "Private Benjamin" as she tromped around in the rain wearing a backpack and clearly the wrong colors for her skin tone. "I wanna go out to lunch!" Yeah ... w/out having to worry about it being too noisy, too bright, too busy, or food on the menu that just isn't right for my body.

But what I REALLY want? "I wanna SLEEP!"

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